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PSA: That Stuff To The Right

That mish-mash of links and ads and buttons and widgets and gadgets to the right of the written test will be cleaned up soon.

(Heh...I wrote "written test" instead of "written text". And I woke up this morning with the song "What I've Been Looking For" from High School Musical stuck in my head. I have no idea what this means. But I sure hope I get a date for the prom.)

Right now, I'm just tossing things up on the right sidebar just to get them tossed up. For now.

Really, I'm not supposed to point out or alert you to some of the ads. That's what the fine print on the ad contracts says, anyways.

But in way of alerting you to some of the ads...what's up with all the sausage ads?

I understand the Discount Hotels in Lithuania since I mentioned my fat Lithuanian-Polish head in my last post, and supposedly there is a little robot that now visits my blog, crawls the text for content, and then posts relevant ads based upon what I'm writing about. Thus the Lithuanian vacation sites.

(The little robots, by the way, make me feel all itchy just thinking about them. Any other time there's been a small anything visiting my content and crawling all over, it's required hours of nit-picking and a dose of permethrin to get rid of it.)

I suppose that posting the word "Polish" did it as far as the sausage ads. "Polish" set off a robotic word-association game that goes something like this:

There is one ad up there right now that I do wholeheartedly and strongly recommend that you take a look at - besides Kowalonek's Kielbasy Shop...seriously, the best kilbo in the world -and that's the ad for Barefoot Books.

I love these books.

I'm a bookseller (for another book selling establishment, namely the largest retail book selling store in the entire universe) and I know my kids' books. And Barefoot Books rock-a-doodle-doo: stories out of the ordinary, multicultural stories, outstanding illustrations, and all from a mom-and-poppish shop that lovingly handpicks each product for outstanding quality and high OOOOOhhhhhhhhh! AAhhhhhh! factor.

Anyway...more about that later. Eh-hem.

So, before I end this post and begin chasing Terzo to grab the marker from his hand - the marker he's been entertaining himself with while I've been blogging, and the marker that he's been using to draw all over the front of the fridge - I have to clear up one thing....

It seems that there has been some misunderstanding based upon my roundabout and confuzzled ramblings in the post below, and that somehow, some of the commentors - male commentors especially - are wishful thinking under the impression that I will be starting a pole dancing blog.

I regret to say that this is not going to happen. Not in your wildest dreams.

And don't tell your wife or girlfriend...or mom...that I showed it to you.

Thnxkbai!

EDIT TO ADD: Well, now the sausage ads are gone. But I swear, there was a big ad covered in meat about ten minutes ago.

ANOTHER EDIT TO ADD: I just clicked on the Kowalanek's link with the computer speakers on. Evidently, there was a song I'd missed before. A song about kielbasy. And that's one way to get any High School Musical song out of your head.

25 comments:

Wow..that was one amazing pole dance! I can't believe you don't want to do that for a living!(just kidding!)I'm going to go and click on all your ads now, while you go get the magic marker (yikes!!!!) away from the toddler.

I put google ads up when I first started but took them down for two reasons: 1) I never made even a penny and 2) there were way too many ads about armpit yeast cures and Sugar Daddy websites. I swear I never wrote about armpit yeast!

You're right...I don't know how long I'll leave up the Google Ads, but right now it is an interesting content gauge. I can also see me trying to write about the most outlandish topics I can think of just to see what kinds of ads pop up.

I LOVE sausages. And I LOVE Barefoot Books. The best books for children, ever. Hands down.

My smallest child also loves to scribble on all the surfaces of our house. The walls. The furniture. The refrigerator. The cat. We sigh with resignation, and say to ourselves, "Well, she's just asserting her creative and artistic abilities." While we scrub away.

(And I could be mistaken, but I thought I heard her say "Suckers!" under her breath, the other day...)

I knew a girl who could dance like that. we used to all sit, all of us, the dancers, I mean, we'd just sit down on our bums and watch when she was onstage. It was sick. It made my stomach turn with envy and with delight - and I was always aware that she was an artist, an acrobat, a performer in the true sense; there was never, at least for me, and probably for most others who watched her besides, a real awareness of her being divested of clothes.

I, meanwhile, sweat bullets when you say the very word "pole." which meant that I generally didn't spend a lot of time spinning on it.

p.s. I'm trying to personally see to it that you receive a large check from googleads and soon.

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